Lacuna
by asifweredying
Summary: You can erase someone from your mind. Getting them out of your heart is another story.


**la·cu·na**

_n._ _pl._ **la·cu·nae** (-n) or **la·cu·nas**

**1. **An empty space or a missing part; a gap

It was cold outside, colder than most days. Winter had come in full force and despite the scarf tucked neatly around her neck and into her jacket, a chill still managed to get through. With her messenger bag slung around her shoulder Quinn Fabray walked towards the street and signaled for a taxi. When one finally approached she ducked in the back and settled in for the ride. She adjusted her dark framed glasses and looked at the drive through the rearview mirror.

"44th and Bleaker street please."

With a nod the driver set off for the destination, all the while glancing at her curiously through the rear view mirror.

"You're the lady from the newspaper, right? The head doctor?" He asked his eyes still trained on the road ahead.

She didn't honestly feel like having one of those awkward conversations about what it was that she did. Everyone had a flurry of questions, some she could answer with ease, and some that would keep her awake at night questioning her life's research.

She smiled politely. "Yes, that's me…" She looked out the window, loosening her scarf. "…the head doctor."

"My cousin he wants to get it done you know. For his daughter...she died young and he just wants it to all go away…vanish. I said what about the consequences, got to be consequences right…"

"Right now I…" She took a file from her bag and flipped it open. "…I'm really not at liberty to discuss the process but I'll be answering questions similar to this at the press conference."

He didn't say it but she definitely saw his mouth form the word 'bitch', before the cab went silent. She hadn't meant to be rude but she was already a ball of nerves because she'd be speaking to a large audience and many more around the world. She needed to focus and thinking of consequences wouldn't do much for her confidence.

She arrived, paid the driver and made sure to leave a hefty tip to make up for her behavior earlier in the drive. She stood outside her lab and took a moment to reflect on what had gotten her to this point. Nearly ten years of research, and failures and finally success. Only it didn't feel like success. It felt like her throat was in a noose and it was tightening by the moment. She had no idea what she would have to answer, what she would have to say. Of course she had prepped to no ends, and prepared herself for the worse but she was already put on high alert about a group of extremists who wanted to oppose her treatments.

After a moment's pause she walked into the building and was immediately escorted to a closed off section where her mentor Doctor Austerlitz stood. He was a short older German man with kind eyes and bushy eyebrows that nearly hid them. She walked straight into his embrace and buried her head into his shoulder. He pulled back and pat her should lightly with encouragement.

"Are you ready to share your gift with the world doctor?" He said looking directly into her quickly tearing hazel eyes.

"Yes I'm…" She wiped away a single tear that made its way down her cheek, despite her attempts to fight her emotions. "..I'm horrified…what if..."

He held up a single finger. "What if?" He asked his accent resounding in his question. "What if, my favorite question. The creative beast doctor. I cannot, in all my years on this earth answer any question that begins with what if, but I can tell you. You'll never know if you do not try."

He clasped his hands over hers. "When I met you Quinn Fabray I told you, you were too pretty to be a scientist and do you remember what you told me?"

She laughed remembering her days in college. She was a frightened small town girl, with dreams bigger than the state she used to reside in. It was now she realized how terribly clichéd it all sounded. "…I said you were too."

They both shared a laugh and he placed an arm around her shoulder. "I knew then that you were destined for greatness."

"Why's that?"

"Because you tell the absolute truth." He said releasing his arm from her shoulder.

She laughed and it felt like she hadn't in years. She didn't have the ideal family life; he was like a father to her. So he had the uncanny ability to calm her and soothe any worry she brought to him. There were only two people on the planet that could.

"Now, doctor. Are we ready?" He asked extending an arm.

She whipped off her scarf and jacket, and replaced it with her lab coat. She linked arms with the older man and smiled. "Ready."

They made their way to a mid-sized room, which seemed smaller with the amount of people now crammed into it. She was intimidated by the whole affair, cameras, cords and monitors had swallowed the room alive. She felt increasingly claustrophobic and nearly froze, until she felt the soft touch of an encouraging friend. She bit her bottom lip and completely entered the room which stood in ovation. She certainly wasn't expecting that.

They briskly made their way to the podium. He guided her to a seat beside it and hobbled over to the podium as the crowd settled in for the duration of the conference.

"What if I told you that I could erase some of your memories? I'll just give you a pill, and poof, they're gone. Done. Erased. Would you do it? Well, here's the thing: That's not an entirely hypothetical question anymore." He stated his thick German accent evident but not effecting his articulation.

A flurry of flash photography nearly blinded the older man; he shielded his eyes for a moment and spoke. "And if you insist on flash photography please…" He smiled softly. "…get my good side." The joke awarded him a moment to gather his thoughts as the crowd laughed with amusement, and managed to get the press to bring the flash down so that he could continue.

"Before today I would have called you _verryckt_, but that isn't the case anymore. Thanks to the efforts of my staff and the creator of this product, Dr. Quinn Fabray we now have the ability to chemically erase the connections between brain cells—basically ladies and gentleman we have found a way to reset your memories."

The crowd offered another round of applause as the doctor shifted his weight behind the podium and proceeded. "I have worked with Quinn Fabray when she was a student at Yale, when she became a teacher there and when they gave her a multi-million dollar grant to continue her research into the mind…so watch the ego on this one."

He looked over to the blonde and smiled, she returned it while the room chuckled again in jest.

"In all seriousness, I asked, do you believe in this experiment? Will you risk spending a life's work of effort a possible end result that will remain negative? When she answered without hesitation, I knew she would change the world." The man's voice cracked as he spoke, emotion evident. "And in the process she changed mine too, she has faced countless adversity and through it all she remained true to herself and her research…so without further ado, Dr. Quinn Fabray!"

On cue the blonde rose and latched her arms around her mentor's neck. She held him there for a moment and whispered words of thanks and support into his ear. She pulled back and walked over to the podium as he took a seat in the now vacant chair beside it. She surveyed the crowd and hadn't realized how many had been anticipating this information until now, then felt the noose tighten.

"First I'd like to thank Doctor Austerlitz, whose guidance and wisdom kept me on track through school and…life in general." She stepped away from the podium to raise a round of applause in honor of her mentor then stepped back to continue to speak. "I wouldn't be who I am today without him."

"Imagine if you will that you couldn't sleep because you were haunted by nightmares of combat or genocide. Imagine if you lost a loved one, imagine being raped, witnessing a horrible event. Imagine any possible scenario that could traumatize an individual…well my process eliminates that thought. We can live in a society without depressions, grief, and disappointment. We can help others move on emotionally in just a few hours of memory removal therapy." She paused to let the information sink in to the audience watching her speak.

She let her hazel eyes drift from person to person, trying to get them to feel the sincerity, not the commercialism in this creation. "We can break down the obsessive thoughts that won't leave your minds, we can remove the pain. We can clear the consciousness and give the world an opportunity to start again. My mentor and I have worked tirelessly for years to provide what we all want most in life…a second chance." She finished to more applause and then motioned towards the audience. "I'll now be taking questions from the floor."

A young man stood up, his recording device ready, a notepad wedged beneath his armpit. "William Letty, Popular Science. Dr. Fabray, let me first say this is a truly remarkable discovery but I have to ask, we've combed over your analysis and yet the government won't allow anyone other than yourself at the moment to perform this process, do you think the public is still skeptical about this entire concept."

She cleared her throat softly. "Thank you William. I have no doubt in my mind that skepticism is still abundant, even with the hundreds of success stories. The world just needs more proof. It is not discouraging; it is pushing me even further to bring this process to a more commercial scale."

"Shirley Cesar, MSNBC news. Speaking of commercial scale, you've yet to put a price to this memory removal Doctor. Is this the world's way of saying, only the rich can live burden free?"

"While bringing this to an open market is ideal, until we get a true backing by all purveyors of health, this will remain limited to the few who can produce enough funds to pay for the entire removal." She answered without pause.

"Brent Dixon, Scientific American, what is the failure rate if any?"

"We have had hundreds of patience with 0% recollection of any events when questioned about their past. You'll find more detailed notes will be released to the public in the coming weeks. The subjects after six months of observation carry on their daily lives, most have improved since the entire process. Some were very…close to me. Some I knew nothing about, but they have used their own bodies to make this world a better place for that I commend them."

"Yuri Mishad, SEED magazine, your thoughts on this being used as a possible warfare weapon?"

She hadn't prepped for that one.

Doctor Austerlitz stood and stepped to the podium. "We are scientist Mr. Mishad, we are better equipped for questions about paraffin not the pentagon."

The room exploded into laughter as he took his seat. He had saved her yet again.

A fiery eyed brunette made her way through the crowd. She scooped under elbows and evaded questioning glances as she made her way front and center. She had one agenda and she would be damned if it was foiled by a bunch of scientific groupies and fan boys.

"What about the moral effects of memory removal?!" She asked loudly, trying to be heard over the laughter in the room.

Still scattered laughter could be heard, drowning out her small voice. She raised her volume and stared daggers ahead at the blonde behind the podium. "What about the moral effects of memory removal?!" She questioned again.

Her increase in tone sent a harsh silence across the room. No one moved, the flashes of the camera dulled, all eyes were on the tiny woman standing with her arms tightly on her hips.

Quinn was lost in the emotion of the room but her attention was captivated swiftly at who she saw before her. She nearly fainted but suddenly felt her body being supported by her mentor. His eyes were as wide with shock as hers. Quinn grasped for words, but found that she and even the charismatic doctor beside her couldn't find any either.

"Doctor Fabray, as brilliant as your surgery may be you have negated to tell the true negative side effects of your treatment. I'm talking about the ones forgotten!"

Her mentor motioned for security but Quinn raised a hand to stop them, and motioned for her friend to have a seat.

"I…I..." She took in a sharp breath. "So you want the woman who was raped to be haunted by her attacker, the husband who lost his wife…you want them to remember the pain?"

The brunette stepped closer. "You are ushering in an era of numbness doctor."

"I am relieving this world of the burden of thought."

"You are 'curing' the world of their conscious doctor. The very thing that separates us from animals."

"I..I.."

"Dr. Fabray, what if the man that raped the woman gets this treatment as well? Instead of living with that thought and becoming a better person, or erasing that he had the problem of forcibly harming women, suppose he does it again?"

She stepped closer and security immediately rushed her, grabbing her arms while she struggled to continue her speech. She managed to wrestle free and rip open her shirt to expose a t-shirt underneath. It read 'The Resistance will never forget'.

"To deprive one's self of one's memory is to deprive one's self of one's own life and identity! The Resistance will never forget!"

Security gripped her again and began escorting her through the people standing, mouth agape to the recent outbursts. When she was finally physically removed from the room Quinn tried to speak.

All at once questions began to flow in her direction. Questions of moral authority and playing God. Questions she never expected at a conference involving science. Flustered she powered through.

"Thank you all for coming, I will be of course releasing more information as it becomes available. Thank you once again for your time." She walked off stage before the tears could begin to fall. She hadn't expected that kind of focus; she needed air. She hurried back to the sectioned off space, far from any reporters and questioning eyes, and grabbed her things. Still tucking her scarf in tighty, she made her way to the street and thumbed for a taxi. She needed to put as much distance between herself and this event as quickly as possible.

**(-Lacuna-)**

"Mrs. Lopez…"

"Ms. Lopez." A feisty voice spat back quickly.

"Sorry, Ms. Lopez, your client has of course been freed but with the mountain of evidence suggesting that…"

Hard dark brown eyes fell on the reporter before cutting away. The woman paused to tuck her dark hair behind her ears and motion towards a young Caucasian male standing beside her.

"That's the magic word, suggested. The evidence suggested that my client committed a vicious attack on the young woman in question…it didn't prove it."

Another reporter followed up sharply. "Proved? Two eye witnesses claimed to have seen it, along with a vanishing recording on a cell phone."

She smirked. "Vanishing sir? This isn't a thriller or suspense novel. To suggest that any unethical happenings went on within this case is questioning the courts and our American justice system."

She shook her head and placed a seemingly comforting hand on her clients shoulder. "This young man has been cleared of a treacherous crime, one that would harm his good name for years to come. He should be congratulated not questioned over a crime that has been proven he did not commit."

"So you honestly believe his 'good name' lent to him by his rich father had no part to play in why he's just gotten away with cruel attack on an innocent young woman?"

Santana quirked her brow at the reporter in front of her. "Is this what this world has come to? We don't like the ending so we fabricate new ones to grab headlines." She turned away from the reporter and back to the growing crowd. "We as a people must get rid of this stigmatism that all people of wealth are above the law, had he been guilty I myself would have lobbied for harsh punishment. But. He. Is. Not. Guilty. Today is a landmark in relieving the double standard, no more crying wolf for a quick payday. The situation is unfortunate and it is both my wish and the wish of my client that the true criminal is brought to justice. Thank you."

The young male and Santana clasped hands and raised them together in victory before pushing through the crowd and towards a limousine. Inside sat his father a wealthy businessman with champagne flutes for celebration.

Once securely inside and setting off on the road, his father spoke.

"You've done it again Ms. Lopez. I am in your debt." He said offering her a flute of champagne.

She sipped it slowly and leaned back in her seat. "You're damn skippy. That's two assaults from this family; you have got to start keeping your noses clean. That means no pictures of you partying, smiling or enjoying life for the next six months."

The young man smacked his lips. "But I'm innocent."

"Oh yeah." She finished off her champagne and unlocked a phone she dug from her purse. A video began to play of the young man getting in the face of the young woman in question. Before it could finish she stopped it. "I don't think you want to see anymore of that." She said with a smirk.

"Are you trying to extort us…"

She looked over at his father, completely un-amused.

"She has been my lawyer and the best in this business for years, do not insult her."

The young man fell silent and shifted further into his seat to look out the window.

"I'm the only one with this video and trust me, it wasn't easy to get." She stated placing the phone into the hands of the young man's father.

"Let me out here." She stated as the limo came to a sudden halt. She began to exit but was stopped by the older male's voice.

"Ms. Lopez, I don't know how to thank you…"

She stepped out of the vehicle and turned back eyeing both of them. "Then don't." Once outside of the limo it pulled back off into the city streets. She walked for a moment and spotted the familiar entrance to her penthouse. She passed the doorman and paused to make small talk about the weather before heading for the elevators. Once she was on her floor she stepped off the elevator and made her way to her door. A package waited by it and she paused to pick it up to inspect it. It didn't seem too important and it had no address information. She assumed it was some bullshit from the apartment complex, so once inside she tossed it on her table. She flung her purse to the floor and headed for the shower. She always needed one after coming in such close contact with dirt. But it was her profession, the profession she had chosen. The profession that made it possible for her to live so comfortably as well.

After a hot, long shower she hopped into some jogging pants and a tank top, and then tied her hair up into a messy bun. Santana plopped down in front of her impossibly large television and mindlessly flicked through the stations. Thirty minutes into Chopped she decided food was in order and dug some old Chinese from her refrigerator.

After reheating her meal and grabbing a bottle of wine, along with a glass she again channel surfed, bailing out when the show lost interest. She lived her life in this silence; she hadn't really socialized since…her. She was the one who was the life of the party, the one that was open and welcoming. All her friends seemed to disappear after she had left. She herself was of course personable, but she sometimes didn't have the stomach to get through her friends conversation, worries and lives. She had her take up the slack in that department, and she did so with ease, she was just a natural people person. She on the other hand had to attend full time classes to pull it off.

Three glasses of wine later; she hopped on her laptop and checked her e-mail. One of interest popped up from an intern at her firm. The subject said it all, 'Urgent'. She opened it and inside was photographs of her newly acquitted client caught in the club partying. Various shots saw him taking body shots and one saw him leaned over a line of coke prepared to snort.

She cursed; she was way too drunk for this. She managed to find her phone and dialed his handler's number.

"Hello-"

"I gave him and his father explicit instructions to not be too celebratory after this incident, have you seen the pictures!"

"I tried to…"

"Oh you tried." She said feigning empathy. "You want a fucking cookie? My name is caught up in this. Know how much money they had to spend to get him out of this mess? Do you? Well if anything happens again it will be double, that goes for my fees as well." She moved the phone to the other side of her face and waited for a response.

"I'll let his father…"

"These pictures will probably go to print; they're already up on the gossip sites. I can't contain them." She rubbed her temples and sighed. "We'll prepare a formal apology and send it into the press on Monday."

She didn't wait for a response; she hung up the phone and poured the rest of the wine into her glass. She swigged about half of it down and stumbled a bit as she walked throughout the house. It was so quiet now, so unbearably quiet. She walked down the hall using random sides of it for balance until she passed the door. The door that she had placed her in, tried to contain her like one of her client's epic fails. Despite her damage control, she could still see her ghost passing through from time to time. She tossed all her things in it and moved hers to another one. She hadn't moved nor slept in that bed since they parted ways. She reached for the knob and let her finger tips caress the cool handle. She turned it and the door creaked open but before she could get a foot through the threshold, she slammed it shut. Too many things hit her all at once with just a simple crack in the door, going in would destroy her. She grabbed a blanket from a closet and stumbled back to her couch. Santana finished off her glass and then passed out on her living room couch.

**(-Lacuna-)**

Her timed television cut back on, the volume cranked up to incredible heights, or it could have been leveled and her hangover had amplified the sound in her head.

"Shut up." She murmured searching for the remote her eyes still closed. It was blasting the news, and that was the last thing she wanted see or hear on her day off.

"_To deprive one's self of one's memory is to deprive one's self of one's own life and identity! The Resistance will never forget!"_

"_That was the scene at Doctor Quinn Fabray's press conference yesterday. The young woman from 'The Resistance' has yet to be reached for comment." The newscaster said._

"Shut up." Santana grumbled a bit louder now frantically searching for the remote. Deciding her approach didn't work she found the strength to rise up and crack her reddened eyes. Holding her head she broadened her search for the remote.

"_In related news, Quinn Fabray and __MLA labs has announced that the option is now available to certain screened candidates. On her website she has contact information for further detail."_

The screen dropped into darkness as Santana stood in front of it wielding the remote. She managed to get into the shower, take some aspirin and shake off the hangover for the most part. This had become her normal routine, work, drink, eat, drink, sleep, and repeat. On the weekends she'd pretty much do the same only she could nix work from her 'very busy' schedule.

She walked to her kitchen in search of food and found some old bagels. She popped one in the toaster and grabbed a glass of orange juice. As she sipped her eye's landed on the envelope on her kitchen table. She rolled her eyes and walked over to it, sliding out the papers enclosed. She took another sip of her orange juice and scanned the papers, waiting for some bullshit information on the next 'community meeting'.

Dear Ms. Lopez.

Brittany S. Pierce has had you Santana Lopez erased from her memory. Please do not mention your relationship around her, or come into any intentional contact with her. While we sympathize with what you may be feeling, it was her wish to remove the memories and move forward with her life.

Regards,

Dr. Quinn Fabray  
_Dr. Quinn Fabray  
_MLA LABS

The glass of juice dropped from her hand and shattered into pieces. She was still rereading the letter and wondering if it was the glass that had broken so loudly, or her heart. She placed the letter down and avoided the glass shards, as she made her way to her cabinet on shaky legs. She popped open another bottle of wine, and despite the time drank heavily from it.

She felt her face starting to dip into her emotion but she exhaled deeply and raised her hand to stop the pain from setting in. In between the fights with her tears, she numbed the pain with gulps of wine. She couldn't stand on her legs any longer, they caved underneath her as she slide down the refrigerator door. She placed the wine down beside her and buried her face in her hands. She had erased her, not moved on, not found someone new. She had completely had her removed from her life. She had made it, as if they had never met.

She stood.

Gulped.

Drank more wine.

Blinked a few hundred times to fight the tears.

Drank more wine. Finished off the bottle.

She cranked her wrist back and sent the bottle flying into the wall, yelling, screaming cursing. How could she do this to her, the last dagger. It wasn't enough that they ended it, she had to go and wipe her out. She had to leave her and leave her with the memories, alone.

Was she that horrible?

Sob.

Was she that terrible to want to completely forget?

She was bawling now, tears ran down her cheeks that would rival rivers. They were running from a deeper place inside of her, not surface tears given to a touching poem or movie, these tears came from somewhere deep within her soul. The levy's had broken, and the pain and fear came rushing back in all at once.

She tried to clear her face, but just as soon as she removed the old tears, fresh one's replaced them. She had to get out of here. She had to leave, now.

She didn't bother with makeup or products; she simply grabbed her coat and headed out the door. She must have looked a complete mess stumbling through the street's with house shoes and sweats on, her hair all over her head. She didn't care.

She saw a couple holding hands down the street and shielded her eyes from it, walking quickly pass and murmuring. They probably thought she was insane. She used the large coat to discretely sip from the wine bottle she had concealed. She found a small park in her travels and took a seat on a bench, sipping again, tears and snot mingling under her nose. She blew the mess into the arms of her jacket and watched the city around her.

She knew they had their up's and down's…their differences but damn…erasing her? Each time it popped into her mind it sent her into another convulsion of tears and pain. She sat in silence thinking about their relationship, and how it deteriorated.

Where had they gone wrong? A part of her knew but wasn't going to open up that part of her mind. She had buried most of this, or so she thought, but came to find they were just beneath the surface. They were just waiting for some kind of opening to wriggle through and make their presence felt.

Her mind flashed to them lying in bed.

_Her mocha eyes locked on large dreamy blue ones. Smiles were on both their faces. Her eye's landed on the other girl's lips. They mouthed, 'I love you'._

She slapped the side of her head and drank again from the bottle.

Another memory popped into her head.

_They were walking hand in hand. Fingers threaded comfortable through the other. The blonde beside her lifted her hand to her lips and kissed it softly._

She shook her head again, physically trying to remove the memories. Giving up fighting them, she decided she'd wash them away with the drink. She finished yet another bottle of wine.

Drunk and emotionally crippled, she limped back to her home. Glass was everywhere. She didn't care nor had the energy to clean it up. She instead in a haze of alcohol flopped onto her couch and faded into sleep.

**(-Lacuna-)**

The next morning, after cleaning herself and her home up she set out to find out more about this Quinn Fabray character. She went to her website, scheduled an appointment and was surprised to find that she would be one of the lucky few clients that could walk-in. She was quite sure it was because of her income bracket she had placed into the website itself.

She decided to drive to the lab instead, opting out of smelly cabs that reeked of last night clubs scene and cheap air freshener. She took the elevator to the garage and hopped into her Bentley. She decided against music and rode in silence. It was easier, besides she didn't want to ruin her make-up if some deep emotional song made its way through her speakers.

After finding the building and a parking spot, Santana approached the building. It looked like any other clinic, white, sterile and dreary. She hated hospitals; she hated being so close to misery. So close to pain. She had made it a point her entire life to avoid it, but with the events that had carried out over the past day, it seemed to follow her.

She stepped inside and went to the first counter to her left. Behind it sat an older ginger woman with large soft eyes and a comforting smile.

"How can I help you?" She nearly sang.

Santana already annoyed with her upbeat attitude, removed her gloves and spoke avoiding direct eye contact. "I'm here for a meeting with Dr. Fabray."

"Ms. Lopez, correct?"

"Yes."

"She's running a bit late with a conference call, but she will be available any moment. Please fill out this form and I'll need you to sign this form right now, acknowledging that you received the forms you'll be filling out."

Santana's eyes widened as she saw what looked like a thin book. She leaned against the counter, deciding to try her charm.

"Any work around for all this paper work…" She glanced at the badge on the women's chest. "…Emma?" She flashed her signature smile, the smile that normally got her exactly what she wanted.

The red haired woman giggled and then flatly replied. "No."

Santana rolled her eyes and grabbed the pen, signing off on the initial form and grabbing the stack she'd have to complete.

"Oh, and Ms. Lopez?"

"Yes?" She asked her tone bordering on anger.

"Here's an informational guide that may help sort this whole process out for you." She handed the pamphlet over to her with a smile and went back to work. Santana took a seat in the waiting area and read the pamphlet title out loud.

"So you want to erase your memory." She chuckled. "This is ridiculous." She placed the things down and was prepared to leave until another memory of Brittany flashed into her mind.

_They were on the beach this time, sharing an ice cream cone and looking out over the water. Her head found Santana's shoulder._

She snapped back out of the memory and began to sort through the papers. If there was any chance to stop things like that from happening she had to try. Nearly an hour later, of answering questions about her current state of mind and favorite color, she returned the forms to the front desk.

"The doctor will see you now."

Emma rose, and escorted Santana to a small office where a blonde stood facing the window. Her arms were folded behind her back. She had a saddened aurora, the all black turtle neck and slacks she was wearing didn't help much either.

"Dr. Fabray, Ms. Lopez is here to see you."

"Thank you Emma." The blonde said still facing the window.

Emma left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Santana stood, unsure of what to do next. They stayed like this for a solid minute when the doctor's voice cracked the silence.

"Isn't the weather nice? I like the rain, the cold and bits of snow." She sighed. "In snow thou comest -Thou shalt go with the resuming ground. The sweet derision of the crow and glee's advancing sound."

"Dickinson." Santana said as she took a seat.

The blonde finally turned from the window and removed her glasses. She extended a hand towards Santana and she grasped it firmly. The doctor took a seat behind the desk and clasped her hands together.

"So Ms Lopez, what would you like to know?"

She had been waiting on that green light since walking through her door. "How did you create this…how does it all work."

Quinn sighed. They never read the pamphlet.

"In my studies I found that a part of the brain called the amygdalas was more active when forming memories. I found one protein in particular that stores those memories; they connect with nerves and of course trigger them into thought." She paused to wet her lips. "Originally the process only worked for newer memories, but after breaking down the protein I found you could pick one out based on memory isolation. I then designed a drug to remove the proteins that hold certain memories. Mixed with a navigational computer your brain will be linked too. The computer will then guide the drug to remove only specific memories and rid you of your pain, loss, or traumatic event forever."

Santana listened intently, focusing on each word, debating over whether she was being sold a bunch of crap, Brittany was always sort of naïve.

"So I take a pill and the computer zaps this junk out of my memory."

"Though lacking in delicacy, you are one hundred percent correct."

"Any…side effects?"

Quinn bit her bottom lip. "No side effects, you remain living your normal life only…only in some cases a person feels as if someone was missing. It's only a feeling, no memories will form. Just a gap…a lacuna."

Santana gulped and Quinn rose from her seat.

"Drink?" She asked politely.

"Absolutely."

Quinn poured them both a small portion of scotch and took a sip after swirling it in her short glass.

"How long does the process take?"

"Well that all depends on how long you've had the person in your life, how many memories you have of the person that have to be found and deleted."

Deleted. That word sent chills up her spine.

"Do you worry of the cost Ms. Lopez?"

"Money is not the problem…" She cleared her throat fighting emotion. "…I just need the pain to go away."

Quinn poured herself another drink and sighed. She was one of the forgotten. She thought about the women in the conference the other day and sipped the smooth alcohol. As much as she hated too, she had to touch on the subject at hand.

"On your on-line profile under reason you placed in…" Quinn stopped to put on her glasses and read a piece of paper in front of her. "… 'paybacks a bitch'." She removed her glasses and focused on her possible client. "You got a letter didn't you?"

Santana finished her drink. "No shit Sherlock."

Quinn laughed and went to pour her another drink. The Latina covered the glass denying another drink to be poured. Quinn shrugged and placed the bottle back down on the table.

"Most of my clientele come in just like you Ms. Lopez."

"I wonder why, you write us a shitty little note and go 'oh, sorry you're being wiped into nonexistence, regards." She nearly spat. "Regards? That letter is colder than this entire process."

"Yet." Quinn said raising a finger. "You are here." She took another sip of her drink. "I find the letter is meaningful in two ways, one it allows you to know what's going on instead of trying to reconcile. Two, it gives you the opportunity for that same closure."

Santana thought on it for a moment and mentally agreed. The quack did have a point; it was a chance to move on as well.

The blonde stood and went back to the window, staring out into the cold city weather. "What you have to decide now is…do you want this person gone. Do you want to live without ever knowing this person? Because my process removes the good…" Her eyes closed for a moment and opened widely. "…and the bad." She sighed softly and walked back over to take her seat.

Santana rubbed her chin and motioned for another drink. After receiving it, she drank it down in one swallow. "This shit is heavy.'

"It is, but so is the burden. All you have to do is choose."

"Easier said than done, doc. Don't you think?"

"Agreed…but look at Emma. She had a douche for a fiancée, who cheated and mentally abused her. She felt worthless by the end and could barely function. After the process…she has never felt better. She's even dating again. Tell me, have you taken steps to move on? Are has the pain made you reclusive, anti-social…a loner?"

She mentally checked off all of the information she had questioned her about. "It's more of a, how could she feeling doctor. All I want to know is why?"

"That I cannot answer, and neither can she, sadly."

After a pregnant pause, Santana spoke. "How do I get the process started?"

Quinn cleared her throat after a sip of her drink. "After setting the appointment today, you'll have two weeks. Two weeks to clear your dwelling if you shared it with all the things that belonged to her. Two weeks to decide if this procedure is right for you. On the date of the removal, I'll expect full payment and then we can begin."

Quinn stood and offered her hand to Santana. Santana stood and grasped it for formal departures but Quinn held it.

"I don't mean to be cryptic, or dark but think…think hard. Because you can remove anything that you want…but you cannot get it back. There is no reversal, this is permanent."

Santana nodded firmly and exited her office; she avoided Emma and made a b-line for the door. Two weeks. She had two weeks to decide.


End file.
